


Only the Heart Rejects

by Jikatabi



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Manipulation, Pre-Canon, Prostitution, Recording
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-24 10:18:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19721671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jikatabi/pseuds/Jikatabi
Summary: Yuuri's never had enough money for skating, and his new federation funding won't pay for everything. When given the opportunity to receive a more personal sponsorship, it's hard to say no.





	Only the Heart Rejects

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Teuthida](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teuthida/gifts).



Some days, Yuuri felt like he would always be catching up in his skating, never on the level he wanted to be, but the day he received the email telling him he would be receiving federation funding for the first time, he thought he was finally getting there. He was accomplishing something that they could recognize: a second-place finish at junior Nationals, fifth place at senior Nationals, seventh at junior Worlds – better than the other Japanese boy they'd sent. Almost every competition had brought a new personal best for him.

There was still a lot of work to do, of course, and the road to his best season yet hadn't been easy. He'd endured yet another awkward conversation with his parents where they had agreed to pay for more lessons, even though he knew they weren't rich, knew that they could have used that money for more useful things. He'd changed coaches, from the one he shared with Yuuko in Fukuoka to one near Osaka. Mari had agreed to move with him, and they couldn't eat their parents' delicious cooking, and he missed Yuuko and Takeshi, and his coach was always demanding – but she also had several students at senior Nationals every year, and that was a good sign.

And in only his first season working with her, while he hadn't made it to the junior Grand Prix Final, he'd started jumping better, skating faster, placing higher. The hours he spent at practice, cramming in school and homework around runs and ice sessions and dance lessons, were paying off.

If only it didn't cost so much.

Mari had a part-time job at a music store that she enjoyed, and that at least helped to cover some of their little apartment's rent and the groceries and food for Vicchan. But Yuuri had hardly been able to do anything to help out with his own costs. Gluing the crystals onto his own costumes only saved so much. He needed new skates when they wore out or he outgrew them; he needed ice time and an expensive coach to work with.

But now that he was starting to prove himself, at least he could pay for some of it with his funding! Not as much as he'd hoped for, and it wouldn't cover – it wouldn't cover a lot, actually, but it was a start. Everyone back home would be happy for him.

Yuuri kept the email, and re-read it often over the summer. When he had a good day and wanted to dream about how he could earn himself a place in a higher funding category next season, or when he had a bad one and needed a reminder that he was making progress. He was going to skate on the same ice as Victor soon, if only he kept working. Maybe he could even make it to the Olympics next year, if he kept practicing diligently.

Toward the end of summer, before the season itself had really started, the federation sent someone to observe himself and his rink mates. His coach told him to skate like usual, that it wasn't a competition. Nerves fluttered in his stomach anyway when he skated out and started to warm up. Not as much as on a bad at a competition, but it was another little reminder of how much he still had to work on. _Victor_ didn't get nervous at competitions. Chris always skated like he didn't have a care, never showing any hint of nerves, though he'd told Yuuri he sometimes got butterflies. Why couldn't he be more like them?

Today, at least, he managed to hold himself together. He landed his quad toe loop a few times, managed not to screw up anything else too much, did passable run-throughs of his programs. It wasn't his best day, but he didn't feel like he'd embarrassed himself in front of the federation official, though he wished he'd done more to impress him.

After their last practice for the day, Yuuri started to leave, drifting behind a couple of chattering older skates, when he heard someone call his name. He turned to find the official waving him over. Unsure of what this meant – criticism? His coach wasn't around, though – Yuuri hurried over and let himself be pulled into a little-used side hallway.

"Don't worry, you're not in trouble," the man said, with a smile that didn't settle Yuuri's unease. "Actually, I was very impressed with you today. You've made a lot of progress over the last few months."

"Thank you very much," said Yuuri. "I still have a lot to work on."

"Of course, but you're young. Things are tough for skaters nowadays, aren't they? All those difficult skills to master. But I don't see why you couldn't be one of our top skaters in a season or two."

"Thank you," Yuuri said again. Where was this going? It didn't seem like just a pep talk.

"Of course," the man said, "there are other difficulties, too. I was talking with your coach, and she said funding has been a bit of a struggle for you so far."

"It has," Yuuri said slowly. "I'm very grateful for the federation's decision to fund me this year."

"There's still a lot that it doesn't cover, isn't there," the man said, and the fake sympathy in his voice was both grating and worrying. When Yuuri didn't respond, he went on: "Well, I know at the stage you're at in your career, it's difficult to find sponsors."

Yuuri nodded, wishing the man would get whatever he had to say out already. Yes, sponsors were few and far between. He was lucky enough to have small sponsorships from a couple of local Hasetsu businesses, even now that he'd moved, but that didn't go far.

"I happen to know some men who enjoy figure skaters, who, I believe, would be happy to give you a personal sponsorship," the man said.

"A personal sponsorship," Yuuri repeated, wondering if that was what it sounded like.

"Yes. Instead of having you endorse products, or wear their logo, they would prefer to have a... more personal connection with the young men and women they support." The man had a smirk on, now, like he was pleased with himself.

Oh. So that was what this conversation was about.

Yuuri wasn't stupid. He'd read the salacious articles on compensated dating – even considered trying to figure out how to do it, one night, when he was bored and unable to sleep and skimming headlines. There wasn't a lot else that would fit into his schedule, and it sounded like good money for the time, and – he could _just_ do the dating part, right? But he knew he wasn't that charming, or cute, and he didn't really want to, so he'd put the idea away.

This personal sponsorship thing sounded a lot like that.

"Like." Yuuri swallowed. "They enjoy having dinner with them, and, um, having conversations about their skating progress?"

"You've got it." The man clapped Yuuri on his shoulder. "I thought you were a smart young man. What do you think?"

Yuuri took a deep breath. On the one hand, he still didn't want to, and he wasn't any less awkward or plain than he'd been when he'd read those articles. On the other hand...

"It sounds like it could be a lot of time," he said, trying to choose his words carefully. "So I suppose it depends on that, and... how much...." Was it rude to ask straight-out how much his time was worth?

Thankfully, the man didn't let him fumble the question for very long. "It depends on your schedule, and that of the sponsor's, of course – I think most of our athletes meet with them once or twice a month, but it does depend on a lot of factors. You never have to meet when you're busy or do activities that you don't wish to. As for the amount, of course we wouldn't let our athletes give their time away without a substantial base fee, and tips and gifts aren't uncommon. And if your sponsor decides to end the relationship, we'll help you connect with a new one if you wish. All in complete privacy, naturally, for everyone's sake."

Yuuri's gaze dropped to the floor. It sounded so professional, put like that. No downsides, except, well.

What he really wanted to ask was whether he had to sleep with them. But there was no way he could say something like that. So instead, he asked, "Can I please have a little time to consider it?"

"That's no problem. Here, have my business card. If you have any more questions, or if you've decided that this would be helpful for you, email me any time."

Yuuri took the business card, thanked the man again, and made himself turn and walk away in a normal manner. Once he was out of the building, though, he started to jog, cutting through a park on the way home, needing to get out the nervous energy that the conversation had induced in him.

He thought about the offer a lot over the next few days. The man had said he didn't have to do anything he didn't want to, but how true was that? Nothing ever came for free. Would he be able to keep one of those mysterious sponsors if he didn't let them do things to him? Would they like someone like him enough? He did have an athlete's body, even if the baby fat was still clinging to his cheeks. Maybe all he would have to do was nod along to whatever they said and not freak out.

After a few days, the man emailed him with examples of, he claimed, the amounts other skaters his level had made from their sponsorships. It was a lot of money. Yuuri spent a long time reading and re-reading the short email, calculating what he could do with that money. How many hours of ice time. How many hours of coaching. How many pairs of skates, if he went through the same amount as last year.

He dithered for ages writing his reply, only a couple sentences long, worrying about the politeness and the wording, until he finally closed his eyes and sent it.

When he told Mari he had a new sponsor, in case he had to explain why he was out of the apartment at night, she didn't ask any questions. She clapped him on the back and bought ice cream from her favorite convenience store on her way back from work that night as a celebration.

He didn't tell his parents. They didn't need to know, and if they said anything to Minako, or Yuuko, one of them might ask questions that he didn't want to make up answers to.

The official asked for his availability, and it was a couple of weeks before Yuuri heard back from him. He didn't learn much about the sponsor beyond his name (Yuuri wondered if it was real), and was given a time and place to meet him. The email helpfully suggested casual clothing and his team jacket, despite the fact that summer in Osaka wasn't any cooler than summer in Hasetsu and he wouldn't need one.

Maybe the sponsor liked it, Yuuri thought, and that idea didn't do anything to help his mounting anxiety about the situation. He shouldn't have agreed to this. It was dumb. If someone found out – he didn't want anyone to find out. Then he checked the email about the money again, and, well. It was good money.

If he did better in competition next year, and could get more funding from the federation – or even another real sponsor – perhaps he could stop doing this. The man had said that he didn't have to do anything he didn't want to, hadn't he? If it was just for a while, until he could get ahead, maybe it would be okay.

He'd already said yes, anyway.

On the day of their first meeting, Yuuri's nerves were already high when he left the apartment in the morning. The only thing that helped was practice; having something else to be anxious over helped him focus, trying to escape the thoughts of what he would be doing that night. Far better to worry about pointing his toes and doing all of his jumps right.

When his coach praised his good work after practice, Yuuri dug up a small smile for her and then ducked away from her, with everything he didn't want to think about coming back to him now that he was off the ice.

The last few hours went by too quickly and too slowly at once. He skipped dinner – too nauseous – in favor of a run, which helped calm his brain down. He could get through this, at least for one night, he thought on the bus ride to the meeting location, and his stomach twisted again. The federation wouldn't have him do anything risky. Other skaters were doing it.

Yuuri was more than half an hour early, and he waited on a bench, watching videos of Victor on his phone. Victor, in a couple of older interviews, had alluded to having funding issues before he'd seized his Olympic gold medal. Yuuri doubted that he'd had to do anything like this – he'd said his coaches had helped him a lot – but it was still comforting to think that even Victor had once struggled for money before his grand success.

With five minutes to go, Yuuri put his phone away, closed his eyes, took a breath, and waited. He always hated this, the last few suspenseful minutes before something happened – the time on the ice before his programs, or waiting for the judges to give a score that would either keep him on the podium or knock him out of medal contention. It was evening, and he'd left the jacket open, but it was still warm and humid, and he resisted the urge to fan himself when a couple of drops of sweat dripped down his back.

"Katsuki-kun, I presume?"

Yuuri swallowed and looked up at the man who had stopped and spoken to him. He matched the minimal description from the email. He was of average height – not much taller than Yuuri was – and wearing a standard black suit. Maybe in his thirties, though it was hard to tell. He could have been any other salaryman on the street.

"Yes," said Yuuri, standing and bowing. "It's good to meet you."

His sponsor didn't introduce himself. "Nice to meet you, too," he said, peering at Yuuri's face. "I have reservations at a restaurant over that way. Shall we?"

It was a short, awkward walk, but once they were sitting down in the restaurant (thankfully nothing too fancy), his sponsor started a conversation about skating, one thing that Yuuri could talk about forever. And he didn't even have to do a lot of the talking.

"I saw your programs at Nationals this year," he said. "Your expressiveness is really quite something, especially for your age. Do you take dance?"

Nod. "Ballet."

"That would be it. The way you moved your arms and hands was so controlled. Some boys and girls your age are still trying to figure out how their limbs work. I was honestly surprised that I couldn't remember seeing you before. Was it your first year at Nationals?"

Nod. "Yes, in seniors."

"And fifth place already. I think you'll be making the podium soon. I bet you're hoping for one of those Olympic spots next year, aren't you? Good luck fighting for it."

Nod. "Thank you very much."

His sponsor said he could order anything he liked, so Yuuri ordered one of the cheaper noodle dishes. It was good, at least. Yuuri eventually had to talk more, but it was about other easy topics – retired Japanese skaters he admired, dance classes he had taken, things like that. His sponsor was well-versed in skating topics, but seemed interested in the perspective of the athletes. Yuuri found himself curious as to whether he'd done this... personal sponsorship before with anyone else.

Yuuri managed to relax slightly through dinner. His sponsor seemed friendly enough, and Yuuri didn't feel like he was being boring or unlikable, though he knew he wasn't being particularly charismatic, either. This much was fine. He was getting a free meal and being reasonably entertaining. He could do this much.

After his sponsor paid, they stepped out. While they'd been eating, night had fully fallen, and Yuuri focused his eyes on the bright electric signs of the buildings lining the street, dreading what he was sure he would hear next.

"Shall we go to my place for some coffee or something?" his sponsor asked, putting a hand on Yuuri's upper back. It felt heavy, hot. It felt like more than just a touch; it felt like it was holding him there.

It wasn't going to be just coffee, he knew that, and he didn't have to go. So the official had said. But how likely was it that he would be content about the fact that they'd done nothing but talk figure skating? Surely he could find some cute high school figure skating fan to do this with if that was all he wanted, and probably for less money than he was paying Yuuri. Or maybe he did value the fact that Yuuri was competing? Maybe he didn't have to....

His sponsor's hand was still there, waiting, as Yuuri hesitated. He looked at the ground. This was their first time out. Did people usually sleep together on the first date? Were the rules of this anything like a date?

Yuuri hated feeling this trapped, weak, indecisive.

"I can call a cab if you're tired," his sponsor said, his voice oddly gentle. Yuuri knew it was fake. "It's a bit far, anyway. You've been busy training, haven't you?"

Yuuri swallowed, his throat dry. "Yeah," he found himself saying. "If it's okay."

In the cab, he couldn't meet his sponsor's eyes. He wanted to play with his phone, but that seemed like something he shouldn't do, so he kept his hands busy by zipping up his jacket and fiddling with the pull. (He really, really wanted to go home and play with Vicchan until he forgot about this whole idea and fell asleep. In a couple of hours, he could do just that, Yuuri told himself.)

His sponsor's apartment was bigger and newer than his and Mari's, and kept neater. "What would you like to drink?" his sponsor asked as he turned on the lights and Yuuri took longer than he needed to take off his shoes. "I don't mind serving alcohol, if you want." Yuuri glanced up in time to see him wink.

Mari had let him have a drink, a few months ago. It had been during a light-hearted night to commemorate the end of the school year and the season with some rule-breaking. Yuuri had discovered that he liked the tipsy, dizzy feeling, the way it let him let fling off all his stupid worries. It was a really fun way to experience the world, almost dangerously so.

Maybe it would help. But Yuuri didn't want to taint the fun of it with what they were going to be doing. "I'll have tea, please," he said.

"Cold?"

Yuuri nodded and stood up. There were a couple of chairs set at angles to each other, and he sat in one. There was no couch or anything where his sponsor could lean into his side easily.

His sponsor brought him a cup of cold green tea, light and bitter. When he sat in the other chair, it was close enough for his knees to touch Yuuri's, and he leaned over the arm, too.

At first, he kept up the talk about art and skating and all of that, while Yuuri mostly sipped his tea, feeling his heart race more and more as the minutes ticked by. This was such a bad idea. But there was no way he could back out _now_. He was already here. He had to go through with it. At least he was getting paid.

Eventually, his sponsor glanced at the clock. He put his glass on the coffee table, and then he took Yuuri's cup, now empty, and put that on there as well. He pushed in closer, shifting his chair, leaning, touched Yuuri's jaw, and though it made his heart jump and his skin feel too tight, Yuuri let it happen, let his sponsor kiss him.

When his sponsor pulled away, he chuckled. "Nervous? That's fine. We all get nervous sometimes. Hey, can you take your glasses off?" Yuuri did so, trying hide the way his hands were trembling slightly. He put them on the coffee table. His vision wasn't bad enough to really blur the face of his sponsor, but Yuuri decided that was a good thing. "Yeah, that's good. They suit you, but I thought you looked cute without them when you were skating."

He touched Yuuri's hair, threading his fingers through it, and kissed him again. And then again, sliding his arm behind Yuuri's back, until he was practically being pulled into his sponsor's lap.

Yuuri didn't want to seem unresponsive to the kisses, but it was hard to react. He made himself reach for his sponsor's shoulder, then forced his mouth open a little on the next kiss. His sponsor hummed and slipped his tongue in, prying Yuuri's mouth open further. There was heat in his cheeks, burning, and a noise slipped out. It didn't sound good to Yuuri, but his sponsor pulled away and smiled at him.

"Let's go somewhere more comfortable," he said, offering Yuuri a hand. He took it and let himself be lead to the bedroom, his heart sinking lower in his chest with each step. It wouldn't take that long, at least. It wouldn't hurt him, probably.

His sponsor asked him to undress, and Yuuri couldn't quite pull his eyes from the floor as he did so, unzipping his jacket, pulling off his pants, folding everything along the way to give himself an extra minute or two. When everything was off, he closed his eyes, opened them, and glanced up.

The admiration in his sponsor's eyes was new. Yuuri wasn't used to seeing that – not directed at him. He wasn't sure how to feel about it. Maybe it would have been nice if not for the way his eyes flickered all over Yuuri's body, taking him in without saying a word for a long time.

"Knew you had all those muscles under there," he finally breathed. "But they're not heavy ones. They look so good on you. You're pretty flexible, too, aren't you?" He touched Yuuri's thigh and eased it up, up, until Yuuri caught his ankle in a Y position. "Yeah, I remembered that."

Surprisingly, he stepped away, only for a moment, to pick up the jacket again and drape it over Yuuri's shoulders. "You can put it on again if you want," he said. "Don't zip it, though."

"Okay," said Yuuri, a little baffled. It didn't feel like a lot of covering, considering everything else that was exposed, and he was already too warm to want to thread his arms back into the sleeves.

"I like seeing you in it," and okay, yeah, that was - weird, it made Yuuri's insides twist. "It looks so good on you, the way it fits. Nice to see that I'm supporting one of our fine athletes, too," he added with a low laugh that made Yuuri queasy. "Okay, okay. Off again. It's too hot for this."

He kissed him again, a couple of times, then turned him to the bed and pushed him back onto it. Yuuri tilted his head up when his sponsor clambered over him, still in his suit, and this time forced himself to move up and start the next kiss, even though he didn't like kissing him. Whatever made him pleased. Maybe it would encourage him to tip. He had to make this worthwhile however he could.

His sponsor shoved him into the blankets, kissing him, touching his shoulders and neck, then leaned back to run his hands down Yuuri's body. His waist, his hips, his thighs, murmuring the occasional compliment. Yuuri wasn't anything special, for a skater, and he actually could have stood to lose a little more of the stubborn pudginess of his childhood, but for a normal person, he supposed that he would have looked extremely fit. As he and all his competitors were.

Then his sponsor touched his cock, too, and Yuuri had to turn his head to the side to avoid his flinch. He was completely soft, and the way he was being handled, with such a delicate touch, lightly running here and there, wasn't going to change that soon. His sponsor squeezed him, suddenly, and Yuuri found himself arching before he could stop it, surprised by the burst of sensation.

"You like that?" Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head into the pillow, unable to say yes or no. He wasn't here to enjoy himself. The sensation was nice, on its own, but he didn't enjoy it right now. How was he supposed to say that, though? "You're really cute, you know. At first I looked at your eyes and saw all that stubborn determination when you were competing against all those other young men, but you have an adorable side, too, don't you?"

Would he ever shut up? Yuuri reached up and pulled him into another kiss just to have a moment without his strange observations. He could feel how much his sponsor was already enjoying this by the hardness brushing against his leg, which he guessed was a good thing. At least he was succeeding in being enticing.

"One more thing," he said when they broke apart. "Do you mind if I set up a camera?"

Yuuri blinked, trying to think – what, a camera, like, recording? No, no, absolutely not. "No," he blurted, before he could put together more diplomatic words, because it was bad enough that he was doing this, but if there was anything that could get shared, could be seen, could get onto the internet forever – that could ruin his career. His _life_. "No, no, please, no."

"You seem really worried. It's just for me, you know. I don't think I'd be allowed to sponsor anyone if I was spreading videos, and I'll be in it, too. It's only going onto my computer."

Yuuri shook his head again. No way. No way.

His sponsor frowned, and Yuuri tried not to panic. There had to be some way to make it up, to mollify him – something he could offer, maybe, he wasn't a smooth enough talker to smile his way out. Before he could think of anything, though, his sponsor's face eased and he said, "You don't have to be scared about it. You won't even notice the camera. And you know, I shouldn't be asking you to do those kinds of things for free. I'll pay you for it, too."

Yuuri paused. More money for more or less the same amount of work. He wondered how much. It would be gauche to ask, though, he was sure of it. But he didn't want to be recorded, didn't want a permanent record somewhere of what he was about to go through. (But if he said no, how unhappy would his sponsor be? Would he hire Yuuri again? Would he stop the session and not pay him at all? Probably not that. But what _would_ happen? He couldn't predict that.)

His sponsor started to touch him again while Yuuri frantically tried to think, firm rubbing that got his blood flowing downward. Yuuri glanced at the ceiling, then down, involuntarily, back up, to the side, struggling to clear his thoughts.

"Come on, it won't hurt you," his sponsor cajoled. "It's just that you're so cute. I'd love to have a video before I see you next time. I bet you'll look so good in it."

He squeezed, again, and Yuuri shuddered. He had to say something. His sponsor was already looking impatient. So he opened his mouth, but nothing went past his vocal chords, and he had to cough into his shoulder a couple of times.

The, "Yes," that came out was thin and reedy, so quiet even he could barely hear it. But it made his sponsor light up, grinning widely.

"I knew it," he sighed, and he promptly rose to rummage in a drawer. "Argh, should've done this at the beginning, not asked halfway through. Ah, well."

Yuuri didn't look as he set up the camera. He didn't want to see it. He shouldn't have agreed, either, but it had been hard to say no, with his sponsor touching him, staring at him with such expectations.

When his sponsor returned, his cheeks were flushed redder than before, and he bounced onto the bed. He looked excited, and this time when he kissed Yuuri, there was a lot of tongue. It wasn't any better than the previous kisses, but compared to everything that was about to happen, they suddenly seemed easy to deal with.

He was still wearing the suit, but now he undid the top of the trousers, and he grabbed Yuuri's hand to guide it in. His dick, when Yuuri pulled it out, was as average as the rest of him, fully hard and a little damp. He shivered when Yuuri tentatively stroked him a couple of times. This wasn't entirely unfamiliar. Yuuri could do this part.

Now eager, he pushed his dick into Yuuri's grip, rutting into his hand, then leaned down to kiss him before laying on top of him. For a couple of minutes, he just had Yuuri rub him, while Yuuri looked up and not at him. Definitely not at the camera.

Then his sponsor pushed his legs open. Yuuri closed his eyes. He could feel the presence of the camera almost as much as he could feel his sponsor's fingers getting him ready.

It didn't hurt. It wasn't comfortable, but it didn't hurt. He went slowly. Yuuri took that as a comfort and breathed.

At his sponsor's direction, Yuuri moved his legs until he was almost folded in half, his knees on his sponsor's shoulder. He complimented Yuuri's flexibility after he'd pushed himself in all the way. Was this unusually flexible? Yuuri spent all of his time with people who could easily bend themselves in half. One of the girls at his rink was so bendy that her spin positions made him wince to look at them.

Yuuri didn't know if he should just lay there or not. That didn't seem charming. His sponsor wasn't being super demanding, so Yuuri put his arms around his neck and mostly let him do what he was doing, thrusting in and out, and kissed him occasionally. He accidentally looked at the camera once and then had to look away.

When he saw his sponsor glance down, Yuuri drew a hand slowly down his chest and wrapped his fingers around his own cock. He wasn't into this, but his body was turned on, so he might as well, if that would please him. His sponsor smiled and kissed his cheek, then continued fucking him while watching him stroke himself. So that had been the right move. His sponsor was into him getting off. Yuuri filed the thought away somewhere, feeling far away from what was happening to him.

Eventually, his sponsor started to make low noises and thrust harder. Yuuri winced, but even that didn't actually hurt. It was just different. Yuuri kissed him again and kept stroking, glad that he didn't have to make up noises or anything like that.

Yuuri held his sponsor when he came, gasping against Yuuri's neck. It seemed to take forever for him to recover from it, long enough that Yuuri got bored trying to make shapes out of the shadows on the ceiling. When he did, he eased himself out of Yuuri and wrapped his own hand over Yuuri's. "Let me take care of that for you."

If he wanted to. Yuuri let him. He hid his face against his sponsor's hair and didn't try to hold off. The physical sensations were nice. His sponsor was a lot better at jerking him off than he was at kissing, and Yuuri could go along for the ride as long as he didn't think too much about where he was, or who he was with, or the fact that this was going on video. Hopefully his sponsor would be covering most of him, anyway.

As orgasms went, it wasn't a particularly good one, but when he could see again, his sponsor was grinning, so it must have been entertaining to watch. Yuuri was ready to leave almost right away afterward, before the aftershocks had quite left him. "You can use my shower first," his sponsor offered, pressing his lips to his cheek.

"Thank you," said Yuuri.

He made it a quick shower. When he was done, his sponsor was in the main room, waiting for him, sipping the rest of his drink. He handed Yuuri his payment without needing to be asked.

It was more money than he'd hoped for. More money than he could make doing anything else, for the amount of time he'd spent here. Yuuri carefully folded the bills and slipped them into his pocket. "Oh, and here," his sponsor said, handing him another ten-thousand yen bill. "For the cab fare home. You can keep whatever's left. I'll walk you down." He kissed Yuuri's cheek again, lingering. "I really can't wait to see you next time. Just need to check my schedule."

Yuuri ducked his head, praying it looked shy, until he managed to force a hint of a smile onto his face. His sponsor seemed pleased, running his hand over his head before whisking him out the door to the waiting taxi.

Once he was safely in the cab, Yuuri sank into the corner and pulled out his phone, desperate for a diversion from what had happened. Oh, Victor had posted a couple of pictures. They were of Makkachin, one of his favorite subjects. One of Yuuri's, too. Vicchan was more adorable, but Makkachin was also very cute. He stared hard at the pictures, willing them to fill his mind with nothing but cute dogs.

Mari was asleep when he arrived home, judging by the way the lights were all off. Vicchan came to meet him, though. "Hi," Yuuri whispered, opening his arms after he sat down in the entrance, and Vicchan bounded into his lap. "I know I was busy today. Do you think we can play without waking anyone?"

Vicchan looked up at him with his soft eyes, wagging his tail. Yuuri pressed his face into his fur, then picked him up and carried him in a few steps. Maybe he should have taken Vicchan to the park a few blocks down, but he didn't feel like going out again. They could play here – Vicchan was a good dog.

Soon, Vicchan was falling over himself as he tried to catch the toy Yuuri held above his head, and thankfully, he stayed quiet; it was Yuuri who had to stifle his giggles at the silly sight of his dog. And when they were both exhausted, he was distracted enough by his warm, affectionate dog that he could avoid thinking of too much else as they both snuggled into bed.


End file.
